


An idle storm brings new perspective.

by Barkour



Series: Red All Over [4]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: 1930s, Canon - Anime, F/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tide rushed onto the sand, then rushed away again, and Chane stepped from the boardwalk to the smooth sheet of damp sand as if to follow it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An idle storm brings new perspective.

**Author's Note:**

> Post-series; they're dating.

A storm blew down from the north to sweep wet and grey across the sea. The tide rushed onto the sand, then rushed away again, and Chane stepped from the boardwalk to the smooth sheet of damp sand as if to follow it.

"I used to come down here as a kid," said Claire, "with my brothers, you know."

She didn't. As a child, she had visited a private beach once in the company of her father, then never again. Chane looked out over the dark, uneven sea. The waves were tipped with white froth; they ran deep onto the shore. She stepped out of her heels, first the left, then, carefully as she wavered, from the right.

"'Course, that was in the summer," said Claire. "Not quite as peaceful when half the city's running around out here."

He gestured with the umbrella, wrapped tight in its sleeve. The storefronts, shuttered against the cold spring, remained silent, waiting yet for the advent of summer. He dropped the umbrella upon his shoulder like a man cradling a blade.

Chane waited for him. The sand was slick beneath her toes and gritty between them. Her dress fluttered, dragging at her knees. A calling wind, rising off the water. She turned to it.

Claire walked beside her, following the edge of the sea. The wind ran soft through his hair, blowing it thick and red across his brow. The umbrella rolled with his shoulders.

"This one time," said Claire. A laugh swelled round in his throat. "This one time, probably when Luck was six, some kid from Jersey got it into his head that it would be in his best interests to pick on him, by which I mean Luck. I almost drowned him, out by those rocks." He pointed. "The kid from Jersey, I mean."

Chane followed his hand to the outcropping, which jutted out into the sea, a dark, twisting mound of rock.

"Keith said not to, though, so I let him go. You'll like Keith," he said, turning to her. The wind pulled his hair before his eyes. "I bet you two will get along swell. His wife's great, too. She's a real classy lady."

He walked with her to the darker line of sand, where the tide washed up to swallow her toes. Chane crouched and held her hands out to the surf, which receded, then returned again to lick her fingers. Claire settled beside her, white froth rolling over his fine shoes, sand sprinkled light on the hem of his black trousers. He held the umbrella flat upon his shoulder. His cuff pulled back, just so. The underside of his wrist was pale, the muscle thick there.

Chane looked to their knees pressed together, her left to his right. The dark green of her dress showed bright against the black of his trousers. She caught her hair as the wind tugged at it, and turned her face away, to the rocks where Claire, as a child, had nearly drowned another. The surf crashed white against the rocks, parting around them. Claire shifted, settling lower. His hip touched her thigh.

Her toes were chilled, but her chest was warm. She touched his elbow and raised her hand up to the sky, her fingers spread wide like rays.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said, leaning in to her. "We can come back when it's nicer out. You should see this place in the summer. If you wanna, we could bring your friends, too." He scratched at his nose. His face darkened, and he looked out to the water, rushing quicker now to meet them. "But if I'm going to be one hundred percent honest with you, I'd rather we just come back, the two of us."

Chane tightened her fingers at his elbow. The sea whispered at her ankles, then slid back down to her toes, then away.

She ran her hand down his arm, to rest her fingers along the back of his hand. His hand twitched; his arm tensed. Claire shivered beneath her.

"Uh, I wanted to say," he said. His eyes were dark, his face red, his breath hot on her cheek. "Thanks for coming out with me."

Chane pinched her lips. Her toes shivered in the cold waters; her shoulders shivered, too. She traced the breadth of his hand with her thumb. Thank you, she said with the press of her knee, her own breath on his cheek, her fingers on his. Claire turned his hand over, to lace his fingers with hers.

The wind dragged at them, sighing now at their backs. Her hair flashed black before her eyes, so she turned her face away from the wind, into the warmth of his shoulder. The sea lapped at her ankles; it murmured to her shins. Claire's hand was strong beneath her own, his shoulder steady.

Chane took one breath, then let it out. She could come again to this sand, this sea. She could come alone, now that she knew the way. She could come with Claire.

She turned, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. Rain came across the water, a misty curtain between sea and sky. In a moment, Claire would open the umbrella and they would stand. They would walk back to the car, or perhaps they would walk the beach, out to those rocks rising dark and strong from the shore.

His shoulder rose, then fell, even with his breath, and the soft susurration of the rain against the sea grew nearer, encompassing the world. Chane breathed out as Claire breathed in, then holding his hand still, she rose to her feet. Claire lifted his face, his brow cocked. She smiled down at him, crouching by her feet, and tilted her head back.

Claire smiled up at her. "A little rain never hurt nobody," he agreed.

Tucking the umbrella beneath his arm, he rose, too, and together they struck out across the sand.


End file.
